The Care of Blades
by JonsonofFundin
Summary: Bilbo, the stickler for politeness that he is, takes it on him to befriend the dwarves. But Dwalin proves to be a tough nut to crack- until Bilbo finds something to talk to him about. Very slightly implied Bilbo/Dwalin.


The first time Bilbo had spoken to Dwalin, it had taken the company by surprise, but himself even more so.

He thought that now he was going to be living in close proximity to these thirteen dwarves, he might as well get to know them, or get speaking to them at least. Perhaps he could find out some interesting facts and tales about their homeland; something to take his mind off the constant longing for the Shire for even a night.

Bofur he immediately got on with, and privately thought he would make a very good hobbit. Amongst the bouts of fighting and travelling, he was always the most relaxed, and often sat closest to Bilbo as he smoked and drank, almost protective of him. Bilbo was thankful for this, and would seek him over any of the other company members at meals.

He also liked the young nephews of Thorin, though he thought Fili took on more of his uncles disdain for him. Kili often sat with Bofur and him around the fire, and listened with some amusement, and some contentment at his description of daily hobbit life, though scoffed more than once that it would never be for him. However, he had appreciated him coming to his rescue when he had been captured by the troll (barely a week ago now), and had flustered about when he sincerely apologised for letting him go off on his own. They weren't bad for their ages really, and some of their cheeky talk made him think wistfully of the youngsters in Hobbiton.

Dwalin however, remained untouchable. Even he spoken to Thorin more than him. Bombur had quietly told Bilbo of his fear of the other dwarf when the hobbit had brought up the subject of getting to know him, and said that Bilbo must be mad or brave for attempting to befriend him. Well, it wasn't befriending, more politeness to his mind.

But at last, Bilbo had found something he could use as an ins to a conversation, or perhaps a few words. Mustering his courage and pushing Bombur's advice to the back of his mind, he purposefully sat down next to Dwalin at supper time. The dwarf raised his eyebrows at him, but turned away and said nothing.

When the silence from the hobbit had gone on long enough, he turned back to him, with an exasperated expression furrowing his brow.  
'Aye, burglar?' He said awkwardly, not making any eye contact with him and reaching for the bread.  
'I was given a sword from the troll horde- any good? I mean- I don't know the first thing about these,' Bilbo gushed and pushed it forwards where it lay expectantly in his lap.

Dwalin scoffed, but took it up and turned it over, whilst muttering something about 'butter knife'.  
'Yer first?' he said, appraising it. He seemed to be suitably impressed with it, heartening Bilbo.

'I don't know how to use it, nor how to look after it,' he said, biting his lip. Dwalin's hands stalled. He assumed that from the look on the dwarf's heavily scarred face that he just wanted nothing to do with the hobbit- and asking him for a lesson would be just as good as asking Thorin for a piggy back ride. However, he stuck to his plan- confident that the only thing he was afraid of would be a sharp word. Bofur and Kili were brilliantly skilled with their individual weapons- and if all else failed he would try them. He took a deep breath in, and the dwarf turned to him.

'I- I was wondering if you could-'  
'Give y'some pointers? Sure.'

To Bilbo's astonishment, Dwalin in his teaching mirrored Balin, and his voice even lost his gruff tone.

When Bilbo had got over his initial shock of the dwarf actually offering to teach him, he listened diligently as he explained how to do some simple strikes, which he said for now were adequate for Bilbo to defend himself and attack with. They even managed to laugh with each other as Dwalin suggested they spar together as he did with Thorin, to which Bilbo suggested that he might as well chop off his head right there, for all the good their match would be.

'You hold it- nay, your hand a bit more- here let me-'

Dwalin ended by showing Bilbo how to correctly sharpen his knife (as Dwalin insisted it was- he refused to use the term 'sword'). He had emphatically driven home the importance of proper blade care, and Bilbo tried not to blush at his turn of phrase ('stroking the blade'- indeed!)

He moved behind Bilbo and took his smooth hand in his tattooed and calloused one, and not for the first time Bilbo marvelled at how small his looked against the dwarf's. And how... well, there was no other word for it- weak. With determination, Bilbo promised himself he would learn from the warrior, whether it be simply learning how to grip the handle, smooth out nicks, or eventually gut an orc.

'I like you, burglar,' Dwalin said, as they reclined back on their elbows, Bilbo lazy stoking the fire with a long stick.  
'Thank you,' said Bilbo, feeling a little awkward at the unexpected compliment.  
'Perhaps I should teach you the ways of gardening, or chess if you don't play it already,' he carried on after a thought, smiling to himself as he thought of the sight Dwalin would make in a straw hat and overalls.  
'Chess? Isn't that a game?' asked Dwalin, and Bilbo could see his interest was peaked, an almost boyish inquisitiveness in his eyes.

Long into the night, Bilbo found himself patiently explaining the rules of chess to Dwalin, wishing he'd brought his small wooden set with him. The new friendship was something which didn't go unnoticed by other members of the company, though if they noticed Dwalin smiling more than before that night, they said nothing. For a long time after, neither of them forgot the first time they had both learned something new. For the remainder of the quest, Bilbo practised his footwork and blade care each night without fail, and Dwalin, after everyone had gone to bed, sat whittling a tiny wood chequered board, and 32 tiny playing pieces to go with it.


End file.
